Word of Honour
by WriteToLive
Summary: Jacks grandson meets a guy who can shed some light on his grandfather. One chapter only. Please R&R.


**Word of Honour**

The breeze was soft and it helped to calm him as he walked up the gentle slope towards the bench where he liked to sit. His mind let go of his problems a little and he felt the gentle relaxation that always seemed to visit him here start to seep through his muscles. He paused before he sat down, surveying the area. As usual, it was quiet and there were no people except for a small figure a little way off. It didn't look like he would be disturbed.

In a peculiar way he was always here, even when he wasn't. Whenever school started to get on top of him or he was in trouble, this is where his mind always came to, until the familiar peace asserted itself and helped him through. Like now, when his head was spinning from the latest argument with his parents. He only saw them during vacations and when he did, it seemed that all they did was fight. He knew why but it didn't help. There didn't seem to be a way to stop it.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his blond hair, blue eyes clouded as they surveyed the sleeping people around him. He never liked to think of them as dead, they were resting, taking their reward for a life hard-fought. But there was pain here too, more pain than he cared to think about. So he didn't, he just laid his head back on the bench and let his mind go.

A buzzing sound started in the distance and he raised his head, opened his eyes to locate the source. Just a lawnmower, probably from the groundskeeper. There was never a blade out of place in these graveyards, it was like a carry-on from the military life where everything was neat and regimented. Such a simple thing as untidy grass seemed to make a mockery of what these people had done in their time on earth.

Just as he was making a mockery. Untidy. Unappreciative. His mother's words rang in his ears and all of a sudden there was water in his eyes and he screwed them up to try and stop the tears. If the other boys could see him now…

It was the same old argument. He didn't know if he wanted the life that he had chosen a few years ago. Except it had been chosen for him long before that, he knew it on some level that he couldn't explain. It was somehow built into him and he had always accepted it – until a year ago. Then things got complicated and now, he didn't know what he wanted. But his mother couldn't accept that. She never would. He knew why. It didn't help.

He wiped at his face, his eyes closed. He never wanted to open them again. He just wanted to sit here and let the breeze wash through him and take his problems with it. It usually worked, given enough time. He relaxed and waited, feeling the quiet surround him, broken only by the soft lull of the lawnmower. He felt himself drifting for what seemed like an age, enjoying the warmth, his mind clearing…

…there was a cough. His head whipped up violently, his eyes snapped open. But it was just an old man, standing in front of him, smiling. He realised it was the figure he'd seen earlier, the jeans and black sweater were familiar. He jumped to his feet. 'I'm sorry sir, I didn't hear you coming.'

The man chuckled. 'That's OK son, I was always light on my feet. Getting old feet now though – mind if I share your bench?'

He nodded, even though he didn't want company. He hoped the old man would sit quietly and let him do the same. But no…

'What's your name young man?'

'Its Jay sir. Or JB. My friends call me Jay.'

'Ah.'

There was a pause. Jay felt it would be rude to pry and return the question – but would it be more rude if he didn't? There was another deep chuckle and the old man seemed to read his thoughts. 'They call me Sam.'

Jay smiled with relief and extended his hand, which the man grasped firmly.

'I saw you from over there.' A gesture from a hand that was starting to wrinkle. 'You looked a little upset, if you don't mind me saying, so I thought I'd come and see if you were alright.' Deep eyes pierced his. 'Are you alright son?'

An automatic nod. 'Yes sir, I'm fine.'

'Only it's a strange place for a young man to be, a cemetery.'

Jay sighed and decided he would find no peace today, the man wanted to talk. 'I come here often sir, during vacation time.' He raised a hand and indicated a cross in front of where they were sitting, one row back. 'My grandfather's cross.'

'Ah.' Sam nodded and seemed to understand. Then he stood and walked slowly over to the cross that the boy had pointed out. He waited a long moment and then he walked back and sat down. 'You'd be named after him then?'

'Yes sir.'

'You don't have to call me 'sir' Jay. Sam is fine.' Jay squirmed a little, that instruction went against everything he'd been taught. 'And you go to West Point?'

His mouth dropped open, a silent exclamation. 'How did you…?' He followed the old man's eyes down to the school T-shirt he wore and grinned sheepishly. 'Oh. Yes sir…Sam…I go to West Point.'

There was another pause and Jay didn't know what to say to fill it. He concentrated on the lawnmower instead, hoping for inspiration.

'He'd approve would he? Your Grandfather?'

'Of West Point? Ummm….yes, I think so. He was in the Army…' His voice trailed off. He didn't know if his grandfather would approve. He didn't know his grandfather.

There was a murmur, so low that Jay almost lost it in the wind. 'Yes. Yes he was…'

'Sir?'

There was no response and the boy almost thought he'd been mistaken, that the old man hadn't said anything. But there was a look on his face that Jay recognised as sadness, a look that told him he hadn't been wrong. And then he sighed and it was gone, a twinkle returned to the eyes that were dark and yet sparkled in the afternoon sunlight.

'So you're going to be a military man then? It cant be long until you graduate.'

'I've got another year sir. And yes, I'll be going into the Army.' He couldn't keep the slight note of bitterness out of his voice, the edge that conveyed everything.

'Are you happy about that?'

What was it with this guy? Why was he asking all these questions?

And why did he feel compelled to answer? Manners, Jay supposed, he certainly knew manners. They'd been drilled into him from birth. But there was more than that. This old guy seemed to know exactly what to ask and it was a little scary.

He could lie. Or not answer.

Except he couldn't.

'I don't know sir.'

Sam nodded and stared ahead, the breeze playing through thin silvery hair. He wore a coat over his black sweater, even though the day was warm. 'Your parents want you to.'

Somehow, it wasn't a question. Jay struggled to blow it off, struggled to keep his mouth shut. But the words were there, ready to burst out of him and they would not be denied. 'Yes sir. They don't care about what I want.'

'Because of him.' A disdainful jerk of the head towards the cross. Another statement.

His voice was going to waver. Dammit. He knew it, but he had to speak anyway. 'Yes.'

It was all he trusted himself to say. Fighting his anger and bitterness, Jay noted the way Sam sighed and dragged fingers through his hair.

'Its your life son. You don't have to do anything you don't want to.'

Control. He was going to be an officer in the United States Army. He would keep control.

'Yes I do.'

'Why?'

He mirrored the jerk, only there was no disdain. 'Because of him.'

Sam smiled at the repeated words. Sharp boy. 'What do you owe him?'

'Everything. We all owe him everything.'

The smile faded and suddenly the twinkle was gone. The eyes seemed to fade and they stared at the ground. 'Is that right?'

'Yes sir.' Jay didn't want to elaborate. But he didn't want the man to leave either. 'I'm afraid I cant really say why…'

Sam was waving his hand, blowing off his words. 'Its alright Jay.'

They sat for a while, listening to nothing. It was a comfortable silence and the boy realised that his mind was calmer than it had been since he'd got home three weeks ago.

'May I ask you a question Sam?'

'Fire away.'

'Who are you here visiting?'

The chuckle again, a deep rumble from the base of his chest. 'Fallen comrades Jay. That's all.'

'You served?'

'I did.'

He wasn't inviting questions. Jay tried a different tack. He was suddenly curious. 'Do you live in Los Angeles?' Sam turned to look at him and he shrunk back into the bench. 'I'm sorry sir, I don't mean to pry…'

The blue eyes pierced him. They had an edge but they bordered on friendly. 'I'm from New York.'

'Excuse me for saying so, but you don't sound like you're…' He stopped abruptly, reading the message in those depths and suddenly understanding. 'Oh. Yes sir. New York.' Sam laughed properly this time and clapped him on the knee.

'You're a smart one. You'll do well in the military.'

That again.

'Yes sir. Thank you.'

The buzzing from the lawnmower stopped and suddenly, everything was silent. Jay felt uneasy and wondered if he should go. But there didn't seem to be any way of extracting himself politely at this point so he concentrated on not fidgeting in his seat.

'Why don't you tell me.' A look from the old man. 'Tell me why you don't want to join the forces.'

Jay tried to think of a benign answer but couldn't. The silence was oppressive and it seemed very hot. He shut his eyes against the sun briefly but no answers came. Eventually he just gave into it, sighed and told the truth.

'I don't know that I _don't_ want to sir. I just don't like not being given a choice.'

'Who's forcing you?' The eyes swung to the cross but the mouth told a different tale.

'My parents. They say that I'd be too good not to. They say that it runs in the family. They think that because I'm named after him,' another gentle nod towards the cross, 'I should be just like him. Everyone tells me I am. And maybe they're right. But I don't know because I never met him. Not that I can remember anyway.'

Sam seemed to contemplate for a moment. 'So you don't like him much? Your grandfather I mean.'

'Oh I do. I really do. The things he did…' The voice trailed off again. He wasn't allowed to talk about it. He'd always known about his grandfather's heroism, an ex-President had even come to his funeral. He had saved the country more times than anyone could count. Among the people who knew, his grandfather was more than a hero, he was a saviour. Of everything.

But no one knew of what had followed. The downfall. The disgrace. Jay had only found out a year ago and it was that that ruined everything, it was that that made the dream of a heroic military career suddenly less appealing. For the saviour of them all had died in prison, a criminal. And it hurt so much, Jay could hardly bear it, the ache and betrayal ate at him every day so that he felt he was getting smaller and smaller and would some day just disappear. Yet he always came here.

'You don't need to tell me of those things Jay.' Sam turned to look into his eyes again, and again the boy was struck by the depth of them, he felt like he was being simultaneously pushed away and sucked into them, the end result being that he was locked in place. 'Can you keep a secret young man? Do you know what it is to give your word and keep it at all costs? Tell the truth now.'

He couldn't do anything but.

'Yes sir. I do. My father taught me.'

'I bet he did. I bet he's a good father. What does he say about it?'

'He says that if a man gives his word, he must do everything in his power to keep it. Because in a world where everyone lies, sometimes its all you've got.'

A faint glimmer of surprise crossed the old man's face. 'He said that to you?'

'Yes sir. All my life.'

'He's a good man.'

_As if you know_….'Yes he is.'

'Then I can trust you with a secret? If you'd like to hear one.'

'Yes. You can trust me.'

'On your word?'

'Yes. I give you my word.'

Amusement played around the corners of the lips but they both knew he meant it. Then the glimpse of a smile died and that look of sadness was back.

'I knew him. Your grandfather.'

Jay's mouth dropped open and there was too much to say.

'I knew him well.'

The mind was no longer calm, questions teemed into it and around it but all he could say was 'Sir?'

'Sam. Call me Sam.'

'Sam. You…?'

He didn't know what the question was but the old man did.

'We worked together for a long time. I've got your word?' Those eyes again, seeing through him, stabbing him with their intensity.

A choked whisper. 'My word…'

'How much do you know?'

He could answer that. He knew what to say. 'Everything. They told me last year.'

'About the prison?'

He nodded. 'Yes.'

'Tell me.'

'He worked for the Counter Terrorist Unit after he left the Army. My grandmother died. But he kept working, he did great things. You knew him then?'

A slow, and reluctant, nod.

'Then he went to work in the Defence Department for a while, until there were more terrorist problems in the city one day. He did it again, saved the day. And he continued to work here. But then…' this was the part that hurt. 'They found out that he was bad after all. No one knew for how long. But he had been working with terrorists, he was arrested with a cell from the Middle East. Uncle Tony told – do you know who I mean by Uncle Tony?'

A small smile and a nod. 'Yes, him too. I know him well.'

More questions but Jay wanted to finish telling what he knew. He wanted answers. 'Uncle Tony said that he knew about these people from some work he did in Mexico, years before. No one knew that he'd stayed in contact with them all along. But he was caught with them, plotting a bombing. They were trying to blow up UN Headquarters in New York and Geneva and a simultaneous attack on the Houses of Parliament in London…'

'They were ambitious.' No tone in the voice.

'Yes, I suppose so. But they were caught from some anonymous information – grandfather went to jail for treason. And…well, you know this right? He died there. I was two.'

'You said you never knew him.'

'Well, I don't remember him.'

Silence descended. Sam appeared to be lost in thought and Jay had too much to ask. The lawnmower started up again in the background, a little closer now. Time had passed, the boy didn't know how much.

'And since you found out…do you hate him?'

More time passed.

'I don't know.'

'But you've known for a year. And it bothers you. That's why you come here.'

'Yes.'

Sam sighed and suddenly looked very old. Jay was on the edge of his seat, wanting to ask and not knowing how.

'Go ahead.'

'How did you know him? What was he like? Why…' Could he ask this? 'Why did he do it? Do you know?'

A long breath released, a slow hiss through the teeth. 'I'm sorry Jay. I cant tell you the reasons why. No one really knows why he did what he did. Your Uncle Tony, well, he understood more than most. You ever talk about it with him?'

Jay tried to piece together the snippets of conversation that had brushed near the subject in the past. None of it made sense. 'Not really. He would never say much. He…he gets sad if I mention it. I think he's upset that he was wrong about him all those years.'

Sam laughed softly, ever so softly. 'Tony was never _that_ wrong. Not about something like this.'

'What does that mean? Please tell me! I need to know…everyone says I'm like him – does that mean I'll go bad too?' The voice was desperate and Sam closed his eyes against the pleas, feeling the pain wash through him as he relived the past. 'And Mom…'

Eyes snapped open. 'What about your Mom?'

'She still cries. I know she does. That's part of why we fight. She and Dad want me to follow in his footsteps, I think they somehow want me to try and put it all right. Make up for what he did. But how can I? I don't know why he did it! What if I do the same thing?'

He thought he saw water shining in the eyes of the silent figure next to him, but how could he be sure? 'Sam? Please help me. You knew him…'

It hurt too much. The lawnmower had appeared over the hill, buzzing rhythmically, keeping everything neat and presentable while everything below it turned to dust.

'I did know him Jay. And – if you're anything like him at all, you wont go bad. You might make a few wrong choices, but you wont go bad…'

Waves of confusion crashed through him, he couldn't hear. What was this?

'What are you saying…?'

'Nothing. Just that things aren't always the way they seem. Just that – sometimes, sacrifices have to be made. The bad guys were stopped, right? And your Uncle Tony – he was never _that_ wrong…'

Jay gaped and the bottom fell out of his world…and yet, there was a sliver of hope to grab onto, a slim suggestion that perhaps, things were…

'What time are your parents getting here?'

Stopped in his tracks, normality through the swirling emotions.

'Pardon?'

'You asked me why I was here before and I told you – fallen comrades. People fall y'know. And others come to say goodbye. I know what day it is. I know why you're here. And your parents will be along sometime too, surely. Unless they hate him that much…'

A hint of a question. Like he didn't want to ask it.

'They'll be here. They always come on the day he died. You know them too?'

'Yes.'

'You know us all. Who _are_ you Sam?'

'I'm just someone who knew your grandfather son, that's all.'

'Your word?'

But Sam had dropped his handkerchief and didn't seem to hear him. When he straightened, a car was pulling into the parking lot below. He stood and stretched and Jay could have cried in frustration.

'Where do you live? I want to see you again. Please…'

'I live around. I keep an eye on things.' He looked down on the figure that had started to slump. 'I'm sorry son. I should have stayed away. You just looked upset and I wanted to talk to you.'

'You knew who I was.'

'Yes.'

Jay stood and faced this man, this stranger and nothing made sense. The breeze picked up and carried low voices from the parking lot – a man, a woman and a young lady were making their way up the slope.

'I have to go now.'

'Please don't…I don't understand…'

Sam looked at him and saw himself and his heart could have stopped right there. He should never have done this. But he liked to keep an eye on things.

'Listen to me…' the boy had his head down, fighting for control. 'Jack, listen to me…' The head came up at the use of the name, they looked into each other. '…You are your own man. You're not him. You don't have anything to make up for.' He reached out and grasped the shoulder tightly. 'Your grandfather…he made his own choices. Sometimes they were bad ones. But one thing I can say for sure – he _always_ did what he thought was best. Always. And he paid for it too. But he wasn't a bad man, you understand? You'll see it some day.'

He peeked over the shoulder, the people were getting closer and his voice took on a frantic edge. 'You're a man Jack. You have to do what you think is best.' The grip tightened. 'And now…your word?'

He was too locked in confusion and pain to plead, but he tried. 'I want to see you again…tell me who you are…'

'Your word Jack.' The voice was hard and forceful, laced with desperation.

And finally, a nod. 'I gave my word. I'll keep it. But…' A squeeze cut him off.

'Good lad. You'll understand someday, I promise you.'

The blue/green eyes sparkled again as they caught a ray of sunlight, a smile tugged at the curved lips. And then he was gone, striding away, age not taking anything from the ramrod-straight posture. Jay was left staring after him, watching until he reached the lip of the hill. And…yes. The man glanced back, one longing look – but it wasn't at him. Jay turned and tried to pull his features into a smile for his mother.

'Honey, who were you talking to?'

_I have your word?_

'Just an old guy that wanted to talk Mom. Hi Dad, hey Angie. Look, I'm sorry about this morning…'

Kim was only half listening. Her eyes fixed on where the figure in the distance had stood, for just a brief second, before disappearing over the hill.

'Kim?'

'Yeah…'

'You OK?'

'Sorry honey. Just for a second there, that guy reminded me of….' She shook her head sadly. 'Never mind.'

Chase looked up the hill. 'What guy?'

'Just my imagination. Did you bring the flowers?'

Jay watched as they gathered around the cross in front of him. He would do what was best.

_Yes. You have my word._


End file.
